


Lost Cause

by spitefulpanda



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Civil War (Marvel), Civil War AU, Did I say that Tony needs a hug, Kid Bucky Barnes, Kid Fic, M/M, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker is helping Tony through a lot of crap, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Service Dogs, Superfamily (Marvel), Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, or twelve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-06-05 12:52:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6705172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spitefulpanda/pseuds/spitefulpanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being shot at point blank range, Tony Stark knew James Barnes was a lost cause. Helping Steve to take care of said man’s five-year-old self didn’t make him much better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I saw the movie and holy crap. It was an emotional roller coaster and Tony needs to get some love, seriously. It was painful to watch.
> 
> I changed some things, so this would match the movie. No longer spoiler free.

Chapter 1

 

The day his life changed started out as if it was the day his life ended. It was a miracle he woke up at all, really. He should have died from all the alcohol that went through his body in a single night. Fair enough, the first thing he smelled in the morning was the dried up vomit smeared down his purple silk shirt, crusted onto the duvet, ruining the expensive piece of cloth forever. Somewhere deep in his mind, over the killing headache he knew that Pepper was going to murder him if he somehow survived the morning.

“Good afternoon, sir. I would like to remind you that the aspirin is in the second drawer.”

Tony's head throbbed painfully from the sudden voice of FRIDAY. Slightly staggering he sat down on the huge bed letting out a groan and with a thud fell back on the covers.

“What did I say about the volume level, FRIDAY?” The name still tasted weird in his mouth.

“To keep it down in the morning, sir,” came the reply without missing a beat. “But it is well past morning now. It is 1 pm 57, to be exact. The weather is quite sunny. Chance of rain: 34 percent.”

“I don't give a shit about the weather. And volume down, before my head explodes.”

FRIDAY kept speaking, but now quiet enough for Tony to tune it out. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to exist. The mornings were the worst; clarity was something he wanted as much as leprosy. What he did want though was the exact opposite and the easiest way to find that was at the bottom of a bottle of the expensive vodka left over from some party or other, but Tony was a fast drinker and the bottles started to disappear much quicker than he expected. Then came the cheaper stuff, nastier stuff, that left him want to die in the morning. There was a lot of shitty, no-brand liquor lying around, gifts from people who thought he would even look at something so low-class, but now he was grateful for them.

Looking around he saw three empty bottles. It really was a miracle he didn't die of alcohol poisoning. Now that he thought about it three bottles _should_ have been close to lethal, had he drank them alone.

_Oh God._

Feeling dread creeping up his back he mustered the little strength left in him and turned his head left. A blonde woman lied in his bed. If it wasn't for the slightest movement of her chest he would have pegged her for dead.

“FRIDAY... she's alive and well, right?” Tony spoke just to be sure, his tongue feeling dry as he formed the words.

“Miss Jones is only sleeping, sir. Should I order her a taxi?”

“Yes. Get her out of here before Pepper sees her... oh my God.”

Pepper. _Pepper._ What would she say if she saw him right now? Maybe she wouldn't even say a word, just give him a look contempt, that made people feel like they were a piece of crap on the tip of her high heels. He didn't need that look. He felt like shit already.

“Miss Potts left yesterday evening, sir. I'm afraid they've met just before that.”

Maybe it would have been better if he didn't wake up after all.

“Were we...?”

“You were having a sexual intercourse, sir.”

His head fell back on the pillow with a soft sound and he felt like crying. When did he went from _I kind of enjoy my life_ to this miserable mess he was right now? Pepper said he was getting better, Clint said he wasn't such an asshole anymore and Steve even liked being in his company and no longer glared at him every moment their eyes met, but then fucking James Barnes risen from the dead, shot him at point blank range and made sure that everything good in his life turned against him. And in case he missed anyone, Tony personally took care of everyone else.

He took a deep breath. “FRIDAY. Where is Pepper?”

Was she coming back, he meant, but he couldn't possibly ask that, couldn't hear the answer to that, not in his current condition when he was still somewhat drunk, because bad news and intoxication never mixed well, especially in his case.

There was a small silence, before his AI answered. Not good. “Miss Potts asked me not to give you her location, as she is afraid you would try to convince her to return. Of course, Sir, if you do not wish to fulfill her wishes I can give you the coordinates.”

“No. Don't tell me,” he said. “She's right. I would bother her.”

“As you wish, sir,” came the smooth reply and then there was silence. JARVIS would have convinced him to do something, to send her an apology or just to start with something as simple as taking a shower and getting some much needed nourishment in his body. He would have taken care of him. Just as JARVIS took care of him, when he buried himself in work and refused to leave his workshop for 48 hours. Take care of him as in waking up a very cranky and very tired blond to kick some sense into him and send him to bed.

In the end, JARVIS didn't need to ask and although Steve was still tired, he wasn't cranky anymore, he just gave him a disapproving look and the typical lecture how Tony needed to sleep, while taking his arm and leading, - more like pushing, - him to his room. No need to say he never went to bed early, because rebelling meant, that Steve would come and touch his arm or shoulder and even if Steve was straight as an arrow in those few minutes he could pretend that his silly little crush was somewhat requited.

Of course all of that vanished in the last few weeks. Trying to kill someone did that. It killed crushes.

Not really caring whether the unknown woman in his bed woke up or not, he managed to get into bathroom. He couldn't remember getting out of his clothes, but now he was standing naked in the shower, under a spray of water that was too cold, but he didn't want to move. His head rested against the tiles, letting the water flow down his back. It was a dangerous position. It allowed him to think.

Which wasn't such a good idea. Maybe it was some kind of twisted good luck, that his head was about to explode from the hangover, making it impossible to entertain any train of thought longer than a minute. He didn't even know how his day was supposed to go. It's not like he could plan anything. Last month was supposed to be normal, but then the accords happened, Rhodey ended up in the hospital with a broken shoulder, five broken ribs and a broken spine with a head trauma that left him unconscious for who knew how long and possibly a paralysis. Maybe he still hadn't woken up. With Tony's own two fractured ribs and couple of bruises he should have considered himself lucky. After all, he was able to take a shower by himself and was also conscious enough to get drunk in the evening and score with a blond woman, who from what he saw had a great body and a pretty face. Yet he didn’t feel any less miserable waking up in his own bed as he would have felt waking up in a hospital.

Rhodey could die because of him, because he convinced him to stay on his side. Even if Rhodey said that he would have stood by their cause even without Tony's involvement, he knew that him being there made his decision final.

“Tony?” Came a soft voice from around the general direction of the overpriced sink and he flinched. With quick movements, - his motor skills were still not functioning correctly, -he turned off the shower and made a quick search for a towel that proved to be more difficult than he anticipated. He was saved by the woman, who looked almost as uncomfortable as he felt. Being naked had never been a problem for him, especially in front of someone who he had already slept with, but the purple and blue bruises that ran across his skin was something he didn’t feel comfortable sharing.

“Uh, thanks,” he mumbled and he never mumbled. He seriously needed to cut his drinking, because he wasn’t himself. He needed to focus.

“So, uh, not be a dick or anything, but I kind of have a lot to do today and you being here makes it a bit hard, so it would mean a lot if you could leave ASAP.” She blinked at him. “Like right now,” he added with a fake smile.

“Wow,” she said unamused. “No need to convince me. Can you at least pay for my taxi? I don't plan to go through the city in my yesterday clothes.”

“Of course,” he said. “FRIDAY?”

“The taxi will arrive in approximately 30 seconds, sir.”

“You heard C3PO, it's almost here. It takes longer to get to the bottom of this building, I promise. Better hurry.”

He knew he was being an asshole, but he couldn't care, so he just gave her a tight smile, waiting for a reply. She huffed and turned around, leaving the bathroom in a haste, but at least she didn't crave dramatics enough to slam the door, because Tony wasn't sure if his head would explode or not if that happened. He started to dry himself off with the towel as he spoke to FRIDAY.

“Make sure, she leaves the building. Don' let her sniff around,” he said, something he never needed to voice, when JARVIS ran the house, but JARVIS was gone and he was left with this, so tough shit. It's not like FRIDAY was not his own work, but JARVIS was with him through everything and knew Tony too well, that sometimes even a certain wording tipped him off and notified someone, once again Steve, who was also no longer here, so it's not like JARVIS could have told anyone if things went a bit differently. Maybe he shouldn't have accidentally created an artificially intelligent tech demon hell-bent on destroying all sentient life on Earth, but he just wanted to help. And as usual, him being anything but a drunken and thoroughly insensitive asshole was such an unnatural notion, that it always ended bad.

“Miss Jones left the building, sir,” FRIDAY announced and once again the building became silent.

He dressed cautiously, minding the bruises, because his armor wasn't strong enough to completely stop Captain America's shield from slicing through the metal front plate when slammed with full force, which was something he needed work on as soon as possible. They did something with the shield too, they must have, because his Mark 19 used to be able to withstand any attacks from Cap, minus the scratches and thank God, that last week Rogers wasn't aiming for his head. But he still slammed his shield into his chest and left him to die afterwards. After everything.

He needed to learn how to choose his friends. If he even deserved one.

The wound started at his collarbone and ended at his right shoulder, slicing through the arc reactor, which now laid lightless in one of the drawers. He looked down at the wound on his own chest. It was ugly.

He kept the towel on his shoulder, so his still wet hair wouldn't dribble over sensitive tech in the workshop. It was only for about ten minutes until his hair dried naturally, especially if he decided to work with a blowtorch, which was exactly what he was about to do. He needed to burn off the paint from the armor if he wanted to see the damage and possibly fix it. He could definitely fix it. But improvement was another question. Knowing what the hell happened to Cap's shield would have been a great help. A few weeks back he could have taken it from Rogers' room with his consent and he would have found answers in approximately twenty seconds. A quick scan from JARV-, from _FRIDAY_ and the problem would be considered done. But no.

The elevator ride was not as quick as he would have liked, - another thing to improve in the future, if the Japanese had managed to cut the travel time, he could too -, and he started tapping a tune on his leg. He got this. He was a functioning adult and he was fighting for the right cause. No one should be above law. Especially if they were anything like Tony.

Dum-E whirred excitedly the moment he stepped into the workshop and bumped into his calves, tugging Tony's shirt with his claws, which made him let out a yelp.

“Ow, ow, ow ow, stop buddy, mind the shoulder,” he said quickly and to his relief the bot let him go with sad chirping sounds. Tony rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, stop crying you giant baby. At least I came down here to see your sorry robotic ass, you ungrateful pile of metal waste,” he grumbled, but still petted him, before booting up the system.

“FRIDAY, showcase the damage on the Mark 19,” he said, walking up to the actual armor, while FRIDAY took care of the holographic one. The whole chest piece was battered, the painting crumbling down where he touched it. “God,” he muttered as his eyes took in the long crack that ran across the front. The cut was clean, as if it was done by a sharp knife, only the knife was Vibranium and some mysterious stuff.

“Dummy, gloves,” he said and pried the white gloves from his claws. Looking at his desk, or at least the junk that covered it he tutted impatiently. There was cotton buds somewhere in there, or at least he remembered once seeing a pack, but he had no idea where he put it since then. Cotton buds was something Bruce would carry around, not him.

“Where are the cotton buds, FRIDAY?” he asked, as throwing the stuff covering his desk down seemed like a bad idea. Too much sensitive stuff.

“It's under the military circuit board you acquired from S.H.I.E.L.D., sir.”

Right. S.H.I.E.L.D. circuit board. He couldn't really remember what it looked like, but based on what he learned, he was looking for something that looked expensive, impractical and was most likely not too advanced. It took him around a minute to find it and under it was, eureka! Cotton buds.

Wiping the edges of the cut on the armor, he wondered if he would even find anything. There was no obvious green goo that screamed evil, but maybe and that's a big maybe he would find something to go on, _if_ yesterday he somehow managed to fly back to the tower without the wind blowing the stuff off.

Two hours later he found nothing. More precisely, FRIDAY found nothing or at least nothing unusual. The whole thing was weird. There must have been some upgrades on Cap's shield, but who the hell would have done them? Rogers knew close to nothing about these stuff. He always found Tony's projects fascinating, but a whole lot of mumbo-jumbo at the same time, so was it Barnes? After all he did have a robotic arm that must have required maintenance every once in while during his assassination missions. Cap trusted him enough to give him his shield. He would be stupid like that.

He needed to call Natasha. After the second ring she picked up, but before she could say anything Tony was already talking.

“Hey Nat, surprise, I'm still alive and kickin', but I need your help to stay that way.”

There was a lot of background noise where she was, mostly people but he could faintly hear some beeping. “Tony?” Natasha said and started walking, Tony recognized the clicks of her heels. After a few moments her voice became clearer and the talking in the background was now nothing more than a soft murmur. “Why are you not in the hospital?”

Despite the bottle of water, he gulped down in the last hour the whole night was a blur. Some flashes here and there, but the last concrete thing he could recall was driving to that party and chatting with a different woman than the one who ended up in his bed. Was he really so drunk that he blacked out? He usually held his liquor well. Must have been something really strong.

“To be completely honest I don't really remember, but I'll visit as soon as I can. Do you know anything about Rhodey?”

“He still hadn't woken up, but he was stabilized a few hours ago.” Tony let out sigh he didn't know he was holding. Thank God, he was okay. “I tried to call you, but you didn't pick up. The doctors refused to say anything, because I'm not of kin, but they don't guard his file as much. We'll probably know more when you come in and wave around a stack of cash.”

Good. Baby steps. Do this and do that. He might be able to function like this. With the right instructions he could be useful. He _will_ be useful.

“Yeah, I can do that,” he replied finally. He hoped the tremor in his voice just in his head. “Thanks Nat. Sorry for, uh, you know. Leaving you alone with this.”

“It's okay,” she said. “Rhodey is my friend too. How are you?”

Tony let out a small laugh, that ended up more bitter than he intended to show.

“Excellent as always. You know, Barnes still killed my parents, just as Steve tried to kill me and Rhodey almost died, but other than that _great_. Oh right, and alcohol poisoning. Can't forget that.”

He was fine. Like he needed anyone else in his own fucking tower. His home wasn't a hotel and he wasn't charity. What did they ever give back for his everlasting graciousness, how did they thank him for giving them a home, for buying them whatever they wanted. He had paid a thousand bucks for an idiotic toy replica of Clint, because he saw him checking it out numerous time on the internet, but was missing the cash. And the good person he was, he told JARVIS to order it and gave it to him the next day. Didn't even get a 'Thanks Tony' or 'You shouldn't spend your money on me, Tony'. And Clint left him all the same. Dared to say it was all his fault.

So good riddance.

“How much did you drink?”

“Considering that I still remember what I just listed, not enough. Don't you know any strong stuff? I mean, you are supposed to be Russian –,”

“Tony,” she cut him off. “You need to talk to Steve.”

“Yeah, no.” More like no, no way in hell, not today, not ever. “Have you even heard me? You know just as well as I do that we've already passed the sitting down and discussing part. I tried, it didn't work.”

Natasha sighed. “You are more than within your rights to question my opinion, but you know I wouldn't say this if I didn't think it would make a difference. We can still fix this, but we are going to have to let the past stay in the past. I know that Steve isn't beyond reasonable-”

“Would you define _beyond reasonable_? Is it a sign of good will, that he sliced me up pretty much last time? And left me to fucking die, which let me tell you, I would have if our new friend T’challa hadn’t found me in time?” Before she could say anything he continued. “That's why I called you. He dipped his shield into some stuff that isn't in my database, which is worrying, because last time something wasn't in there I had to synthesize a new element and I'm really not feeling that right now.”

If Tony didn’t know Nat so well, - if he knew her at all, - he wouldn’t have noticed the slight change in her tone. “Wait, what happened? What did the shield do?”

 “I don't know, slice me in half almost? Broke the reactor? My armor is a wreck, I'm currently looking at the damage on mine and man, it's crazy. I mean, this freaking thing survived Mjolnir and I've lost count how many rockets and then out of nowhere Cap's shield cuts through it like a hot knife through butter. That's not supposed to happen. Like _ever._ And it's especially worrying now that they are after my ass.”

The headache was getting worse as they spoke. Tony pressed two fingers to his forehead, willing the pain to go away. If it worked in the movies, it might as well work on him.

Natasha took her time answering him.

“Nobody’s _after your ass._ Steve and I…we spoke afterwards. He didn’t look good.”

“Should have seen me,” Tony said without sympathy. “Should have seen Rhodey.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry, I really am, but he took it bad as well.” When Tony didn’t even bother to answer, she continued. “And the shield thing is weird.”

Tony huffed.

“No need to tell me that.”

“No, I mean that coating thing _is_ weird, but Steve wouldn't let others tinker with the shield.”

“He used to let me,” Tony mumbled, picking up the bottle of pills from his table. For a new purchase it was worryingly empty. How many did he take yesterday? He couldn’t even remember. “You know,” he continued. “Before. And we apparently weren't even friends, so he might have let others look at it.”

Natasha drew the conclusion quite quickly.

“Bucky?”

Tony nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “My bet is on him. It makes sense, he was an assassin, he could have this knowledge. He also knows about tech, thanks to his metal arm. And Steve trusts him.”

“Steve wouldn't want you dead,” she says as if it was something obvious, but Tony knew better.

“Could have fooled me.”

He needed a drink. Again.

 “You know it’s kind of funny how disappointed I’m finding out, that Steve isn’t as perfect as I thought, because I was trying so bad to find his flaws.” He looked around the mess that was his workshop. It used to be chaotic, but it was a chaos he understood. Now it’s all over his head. “Guess I shouldn’t have pushed, eh? It’s my fault really, like everything is, according to everyone. Maybe they are right.” Where was that damn scotch that used to be on the shelf? It was right there two days ago; it couldn’t have disappeared. It was only him in his tower. In the whole fucking Avengers tower.

“JARVIS, where the hell is the scotch?”

It took him a few seconds to realize the Freudian slip.  The silence on the other end of the phone was heavy and nauseating. He needed to find that scotch, before he sobered up.

“The bottle of Macallan 1939 was enjoyed and finished by Sir and Miss Jones last night, Sir.”

“Tony--”

Tony ignored her, but couldn’t bring himself to hang up on the last people he trusted. So instead he sighed. “Thank you, FRIDAY.”

And in that second Natasha gasped. Not breathed out her nose. _Gasped._ Not once in his life had he seen or heard her actually surprised.

“Nat?” he asked, forgetting the bottle immediately. She was talking with someone, but the background noise was once again too loud and his headache grew worse by every second.

“Natasha?” he asked again. What the hell was going on?

“Hey Tony, something came up. You should get here as soon as you can.”

“What came up? Is it something about Rhodey?”

“Just… get here. And come with a car, not in suit. Keep a low profile. Talk to you later.”

“No, no, no, wait!” he said, but she already hung up. “Great! Let’s not explain anything! Good plan.”

It took quite a bit of restraint to not throw the phone away, but he needed to make another call. Not counting the number of pills, he poured some in his hand and swallowed them dryly, before dialing.

“Happy, I need a ride.”

 

*****

 

The hospital was one of the best in the area. No. Correction. It was the best one Tony could afford and let’s be real; Tony could afford pretty much everything. It was a private hospital, located fifty minutes’ drive away from the Avengers Tower, which was roughly five minutes with the suit, but Nat’s request to take a car was so random, that he had to comply. It was more of a compromise really as the suit was currently in the trunk. So yeah, he took the car and right now was sitting in a traffic jam. Someone would think that being disgustingly rich meant that he was free to go on the roads, but no. With and irritated sigh, Tony leaned back in the leather seat and closed his eyes.

Everything was so weird. Nat was always shady, but when the trained assassin couldn’t conceal her gasp, Tony knew something was off. Rhodey definitely didn’t wake up, Nat would have said so and maybe Tony’s eyesight wasn’t that great, his hearing worked just fine. Then everything happened so quickly. Few minutes of chat about Cap’s shield, Nat’s gasp, talk to you later, take a car and boom, she hung up. Tony didn’t even have time to say a word, the signal was already gone. And on top of everything crazy happening he had the worst hangover in history. It was a shame sometimes that he wasn’t that interested in biochemistry. He could build basically anything from scratch, but he knew little about medicine. There were only so much painkillers he could take and he took _a_ _lot._ Pepper always said he didn’t know the word measure, but she also never drank as much as Tony. Still, maybe he did take too much enough, that despite his anxiousness and running mind he managed to fall asleep on the backseat.

It wasn’t a resting sleep, but he couldn’t even remember the last time he had one, where he didn’t twist and turn in the finest sheets all night long, only to wake up to find his cover drenched in sweat, so there’s that. Sleep was sleep, even if it was a few minutes with his mouth unattractively hanging open. He was in no position to bargain.

The seatbelt held him firmly and that was the only reason he didn’t fall out the door, when Happy opened it. Momentarily startled and still half asleep, Tony managed to regain his balance and sent an annoyed look towards the man.

“You said, you hated me knocking on the window, Boss.”

“Well I hate kissing the pavement more,” he said back, taking in his surroundings. They were parked right in front of the hospital’s entrance. The sun was still high up in the sky, so he couldn’t tell how many minutes passed since he was out cold. He still felt a bit drowsy. Okay, he _definitely_ took to many painkillers.

“What time is it,” he asked, unbuckling the seatbelt.

“It’s almost three,” Happy said with a glance at his watch. Two hours of fucking traffic jam. “Most of the roads were closed in the city. It’s a chaos since...” Happy looked away.

“Yeah, I know. Sorry about that.”

That fight was a rough one. The two cracked ribs made sure he remembered that. Happy continued.

“Shall I ready the suit, Boss?”

Tony shook his head and put on his sunglasses. “No need. I don’t think there’s a threat here.” Surely they wouldn’t attack him while visiting his fucking friend, that they themselves put in the hospital. Cap wouldn’t. Or at least a few months ago he was above that. But now? He wasn’t really sure. “You know what? Scratch that,” he said after a moment. “Make sure it gets to me when I need it. And stay sharp.”

“Yes, Boss,” he heard the man rumbling voice and Tony entered the building.

One could tell from the atmosphere that the place was expensive. A perfumed scent lingered in the air, - it reminded him of the bottle of Chanel, that Pepper got from his parents last Christmas -, mixed with smell of fresh flowers neatly placed in designer vases. The floor was slate grey and the walls dove, that much to Tony’s annoyance reflected the _way too_ bright light of the ceiling lamps and amplified it. Even through his sunglasses he felt a migraine coming.  That was the problem with hospitals. Tony usually felt worse after being admitted to one, which was why he preferred nagging slash guilt tripping Bruce into tending to his whatever problem, usually hangovers. Still, Bruce refused to do anything that required a scalpel and the guy was currently God knows where. If Nat couldn’t track him down, no one could.

Tony fished out his mobile phone from his _I’m totally average_ jumper’s pocket and waved off some grey haired guy, who was rushing to help him. He had the face of a guy one would ask for directions, non-threatening, Tony supposed, but he wasn’t taking any chances. The less people recognized him the better.

“Took you long enough,” Natasha said immediately after picking up.

“Someone told me to come with a car,” he replied, looking around. Good. No one was listening. “What the hell is going on?” He asked, his voice harsher than he intended.

Nat’s voice was calm. “Not here,” she said. “Come to the third floor’s staff room. It’s right next to the stairs. Be quick.”

And she was gone.

A muscle twitched involuntary at the corner of his right eye and his mouth formed a rigid grimace. No, it’s okay. He’s just overreacting, he does that a lot, everything’s fine. It was just his nerves getting the best of him. In his racing mind he made up some detailed rationalizations for why Natasha would have warned him somehow if things were _that_ bad, but the nagging voice in the back of his mind spoke of nothing, but doom ahead.

The elevator ride was quick, maybe too quick. He didn’t have the time to prepare or collect his thoughts, the door was already sliding silently open. It was a mistake to not bring the suit.

If he had any intentions of going back to Happy like a coward, it was gone now. A short woman, with a brown ponytail coughed purposely, looking at Tony with a polite smile. She was pushing some kind of a medical equipment, - his brain was too busy to offer anything accurate -, that definitely wasn’t going to fit with Tony still in the elevator.

“Sorry,” he said with a perfect smile and stepped out of the metal box. She smiled back, because his charm worked, even if he was dressed like someone who just threw on the first thing he found to go down to the shop for some milk. As if he had ever bought milk in his life. Or went down to a shop. He paid people to do that for him.

All the same, the elevator door closed. No going back now.

Navigating wasn’t too difficult, even though the whole hallway was built and decorated to be symmetric. It was quite unnerving, the way they placed the fine art pieces so precisely. Above every door he passed, an obvious sign told him what the room held and he was in front of the staff room relatively quickly. A printed note was fastened to the door with a piece of cello tape, that read ‘ _Possible gas leak, do not enter’_ , but Tony had some suspicion that it was a certain red haired woman’s job. He still hovered above the doorknob for another minute. Should he knock or what?

He pushed the door open at last, after taking a look around and finding the hallway empty. Tony Stark did not knock and he won’t start today.

The darkness in the room was such a sudden change after the blinding brightness of the hall, that Tony halted in the door for a second. Was he in the right room? He certainly couldn’t smell the distinctive odor of gas, nor did he hear any hissing sound. He automatically reached for the light switch, but pulled back in the last moment. If Natasha turned it off she must have had her reasons. So instead he pulled the door shut behind him.

He did _not_ jump, when Natasha appeared from behind a shelf.

“Did anyone see you come in?”

Okay, Tony maybe jumped, with a hand placed on the reactor, aware of his heart throbbing against the cage of his chest. “Holy crap, Nat! Do you want to send me to an early grave? God,” he muttered, pushing his shades up. At least, now he could see somewhat, even it was just Natasha’s vaguely amused face. As she was about to open her mouth he snapped. “No, nobody bloody saw me come in, unless there are cameras, and there must be, because I wouldn’t pay so much for a place with shitty security.”

Her red locks tumbled down her shoulder as she knocked her head. “Took care of them. And I just wanted to say sorry, for forgetting you were such a wuss,” she added, raising a single eyebrow.

“Yes, remember that next time, please. I’m extremely cautious about femme fatales, lurking in the shadows.

He looked around the room. It was dark, but even though the shutters were closed enough light came into the room to illuminate some of the furniture. His gaze shifted over the tidy desks and leather chairs, only to look in the far side of the room.

The next moment all color drained from Tony’s face.

There was a hooded person in the shadows. Though he seemed to be making an effort to hide, he did a poor job at that with moving his weight from one leg to another, as there was so much tension in him that had to be released, like a boiling kettle letting out steam.

He could recognize that figure anywhere.

The look he gave to Natasha was a mixture of anger and betrayal.

“What the _hell_ is he doing here?” He seethed, backing away. He needed to get out of here.

Natasha at least had the decency to look guilty, but she wasn’t fooling him now. She was no better than the others that left. It was his mistake to believe she was any different from Clint.

“Wait,” she said, grabbing his hand that was reaching for the doorknob, but he shook her off. She grabbed him again. “I can explain.”

A well-practiced fake smile appeared on his face. “Don’t bring a suit, huh? Very clever. Want to off me so much? I admit I’m a bit disappointed that you chose something with so little style.” He was babbling now, he knew that, but couldn’t stop vomiting the words. “Pegged you for the poison kind, but that wouldn’t really fit me, would it? I should go out with a bang, you know, explosions and at least one TV station broadcasting live, but I suppose I could accept the thigh around the neck technique too, but –“

“I _don’t_ want to kill you,” she interrupted, now angry. Tony opened his mouth to contradict, but she cut him off again. “Just shut up. You idiot. Of course I’m on your side and I think I deserve a bit more faith, after everything. You are angry and hurt, I _get it,_ but if you refuse to even listen to what Steve has to say, I’m the one that’s going to be pissed off.”

Tony closed his mouth.

“We will see who’s worse, Bruce or me,” she added in a deadly calm voice and let go of his hand. It would leave a mark, but it’s not like it mattered. He was basically purple and green all over.

“Don’t blame her,” Steve said and of course it was an order, because he couldn’t have said _It’s not her fault_ instead. He turned his head to the man staring at him with familiar blue eyes, that once made his heart race. Now it only made him tense.

So Tony quipped, “You are no longer team leader, Cap, nor there is a team anymore, so you can’t tell me what to do,” because he could and it felt so good to see the man’s expression turn into a scowl and because Tony liked to push buttons and see what they do.

“Would it be impossible for you to have a conversation for once, without making remarks every second?” he asked in a hard voice.

“Steve,” Natasha warned and Tony laughed.

“Oh, I’m perfectly capable of that, as you would have noticed if, I don’t know, you _allowed_ me to talk? But God forbid, that someone has a different opinion than our national treasure, Captain America! Let’s just kill everyone who dares to disagree.”

Steve expression faltered.

“What happened last week—“

“Let’s not start with me for once, what did Rhodey ever do to you, huh? Despite fighting back, after _you_ attacked us?  Never thought I would be the sentimental one of the two of us, but you know what? I didn’t even think about killing you. Exchange a few blows, sure, but kill you? I thought you were the same,” he shook his head. “Guess I was wrong.”

“Guys, enough,” Nat tried again, but they both ignored her.

“You weren’t going to stop. I know that seeing that video was a shock to you-“

“A _shock_?” Tony sputtered. “A fucking shock? Seeing a cat walk on two legs is a shock, I saw my parents get murdered! By your fucking beloved friend and you lied to me about it,” he said, his breathing getting harsher. His hands were shaking now and he couldn’t stop the pounding heart speeding up in his chest, threatening to tear out.

Natasha spoke gently. "Tony, you need to calm down-" 

"I don't want to calm down!" He shouted and a child started crying.

The crying was so out of nowhere Tony didn’t even bother to hide his surprise. There was no question about where it came from; the kid was definitely in the room with them. Following the sound his eyes landed on the small lump of whimper he easily missed earlier. He, - could be a she, but the kid sounded like a little boy to him, not that Tony was an expert in any way, - was half sitting on the couch, hiding behind a huge jacket, still bawling. The jacket was Steve’s, Tony recognized the brown leather easily. It didn’t even sound like the kid was pausing long enough to breathe. Surely he would either stop or pass out soon.

Everything happened so quickly. He was still watching the child, when Steve started to panic, looking around helplessly, before burying his face in his palms.

Natasha was the first to act. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said soothingly, while throwing a look at Tony that he couldn’t interpret. He looked at Steve in question, but the man was too busy taking even breaths and ignoring what’s happening in the back of the room.

“I’m really confused,” Tony finally offered, feeling lost.

The kid was still crying, but it was mostly whimpers now.  “Well,” Nat said carefully, raising the jacket. “Meet Bucky Barnes.”

And under the jacket there was a missing arm.

Tony slowly pulled out a chair and sat down.

He really needed that drink now.


	2. Chapter 2

Staring wasn’t quite the word for what Tony did; that would require processing what he saw and he sure as hell wasn’t there yet.

The kid, - because that… _whatever_ _it was_ , wasn’t Steve’s friend, couldn’t have been, - was no longer crying and was now asleep, clinging onto Natasha’s shirt. Tony didn’t know what was more shocking; the revelation five minutes ago or that Natasha had maternal instincts, but all the same he needed to think. _A lot._ He thought, that after the Battle of New York, - as they so liked to call it in the social media, -  he pretty much saw everything there was to be seen. Or at least he was at his limit at what he wanted to see or know about. His brain could only handle so much, and it could handle a lot. Or did once.

He was obviously getting old. Maybe dementia, his brain so graciously offered, because this was all so weird. Did he really sober up? Was he dreaming this in some kind of alcoholic fever? Because even _that_ was a more plausible explanation, than what he was seeing.

He didn’t like kids in the first place. They were loud, needy and highly annoying, things his Dad called him numerous times, but now he understood. His ears were still ringing from the previous temper tantrum the kid threw, before quickly falling asleep on Natasha. Tony could have sworn he had heard her lowly murmuring in Russian, something that made him more than uneasy.

A sudden noise made him look up. Incoherent mumbling escaped the boy’s lips, nuzzling his small face deeper into Natasha’s arm. She looked at the kid with a stoic expression, still as a wax figure, even moments after the boy stopped moving. Then with a precise movement she stood up, gently leaning the boy down on the couch.  He didn’t wake up.

“He should stay asleep if you two don’t shout,” she said in a quiet voice and Tony’s head automatically nodded. He could control himself.

They sat in silence for a while, during which Tony mostly stared into empty space.

“So,” he said, after finally finding his voice. “Care to fill me in?”

The hand moved away from Steve’s face, only to clench into a fist. The huge man moved across the room and pulled out a chair across from Tony. He sat down with a thump and put his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers under his chin. Tony waited for him to speak, but he only stared at the boy on the couch. Tony cleared his throat.

“I’m waiting.”

Blue eyes moved back to him, before Steve closed his eyes and sighed. “It’s complicated,” he started, only to fidget in his seat again.

“It always is, so why don’t you just get to the point,” he said, losing his patience. He shouldn’t even be here.

The man’s mouth tightened and his expression turned into a scowl. Tony wondered if lately he even had any other expression beside that, or he was just keeping the rest for his friends. _Actual_ friends.

The air was so brittle it could snap, and if it didn’t, Tony might. Focusing his thoughts would be a great idea right now, but it was hard to concentrate when so many things he was used to changed rapidly around him. Sure, the de-aged Bucky was the strangest of them all, but the other two people in the staff room made him just as uneasy.

Natasha was the lesser evil here, but her actions raised many questions that had yet to be answered and knowing Nat, they most likely won’t be. However, she wasn’t the one he was afraid of. No. It was the unshaven man, slumping over the table with clenched jaws.

Any kind of facial hair would have looked weird on Steve’s face, but the two days old stubble was definitely alien. Why didn’t he shave? Honestly, until now Tony thought that he simply couldn’t grew a beard, but obviously he was wrong. And if Steve had found the time to shave on every previous occasion, like Battle of New York, which was a _pretty_ busy few days, then what kind of deeps shit was going on now?

“You look like a walking corpse, Cap,” he blurted out, before he could control his stupid, stupid mouth. Why was he deliberately making a conversation?

“Thanks,” Steve muttered, scratching his left cheek, as if that would remove the stubble. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Tony couldn’t stop. Why couldn’t he stop? "The bags under your eyes are quite a delectable shade of purple. What brand is that?"

Oh God, Steve almost looked slightly amused. If he ever gets home, he is sawing his mouth shut.

“Insomnia.”

"Nice. Gotta try that some time,” he said without a beat to wrap up their little chit-chat. As if he wasn’t the same. But who needed sleep, when you got the delicious coffee your personal AI brew for you?

“Do I honestly look that bad?” Steve asked wearily, jumping Tony from his thoughts. He took a good look at the man. Stubble, check, bags under eyes, check, dirty ass jumper, that Tony rather burn, than wash, check. The answer was a definitive yes, but… why would he say that? Maybe somewhere not even that deep he cared what was going on with Cap, but he knew he shouldn’t. So instead he said:

“Why don’t we just skip to what you have to say, then we can both go on our separate ways.”

Steve’s expression fell, before turning back to his usual scowl. Good. It was better this way. He will be fine if they keep the distance. He won’t be good. He won’t be bad. But he will manage.

After all, he was Tony Stark. He was good at dealing with things. He was dealing with things since the moment he was born, he learned to be abandoned at a young age, so he shouldn’t feel anything, but familiarity at the concept of people choosing others. Just as his father chose work over spending time with his son, just like his mother chose alcohol over celebrating Tony’s seventh birthday, just like Obie chose power over an old friendship. Just as Steve chose Barnes, over Tony.

Ultimately, that was what it came down to. After writing so many algorithms, he really should have learned to notice a pattern.

He blinks. He was staring at a scratch on the table, probably the only flawed part on the wooden surface. It looked like someone placed something a bit too harshly down. Maybe a set of keys or a sturdier mug. He wasn’t quite sure.

When Natasha pulled out a chair Tony flinched. He was being way too jumpy for someone who didn’t flinch when a Jericho blew up behind him, but he wasn’t a nervous mess back then. He kind of missed that. All the partying, being an asshole, people kissing his ass, because being friends with Tony used to mean something. Funny how he did less damage being a complete ass, than now when he tried to make things right. He tried to help and Ultron happened. Tried to help and the Avengers fell apart. Maybe some people weren’t born to be a good person.

He noticed Natasha looking at him, but what was he supposed to do, really. Send her a reassuring smile? He wasn’t fine and the smile wouldn’t fool her. Instead he just looked at the scratch on the table. If he looked long enough he might even figure out what did the damage.

“After… what happened, Steve went to free his team, from the prison,” Natasha started.

Tony nodded, eyes still on the table. “I got the memo.”

“Steve?” she asked, waiting for him to continue.

“That’s right,” he said in a rough voice, trying to keep quiet. Bucky was with me too. But we knew that wherever we went, we wouldn’t have peace. Someone would always be after him.” Steve glanced at the small boy on the couch. “We were out of options,” he continued. “His face was all over the newspapers and the TV. And they were looking for me too. I could hold my ground, but without his arm Bucky was… just Bucky. He wasn’t a soldier. We were desperate.”

“So what, you decided to shrink him so he would fit in your left pocket?”

“We went to Wakanda.”

Tony stared. “What,” he blurted. Was he hearing things clearly? Maybe he had too much faith in his ears earlier. “Why would you go there, do you have a death wish, or something?”

 “We went there, because we didn’t have one. And T’Challa helped us. Or at least tried to. He understood that it wasn’t Bucky, who killed his father.”

Tony gave him a wry smile. “Not his, at least.”

Steve’s sigh was both resigned and weary.  

“Tony, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. And I’m so sorry about Howard and Maria. Back when I found out, I just… I don’t know. It was on my mind for a while, but then Bucky disappeared and I just… forgot about it. And now, when he came back once again the accords happened and you were already against us and I didn’t want to make it final. You wouldn’t have helped us.” Realizing how calculating and wrong that sounded, he quickly corrected. “You wouldn’t have helped _him_.”

“Like I’m not helping now?” Tony said instantly and enjoyed the shame appearing on the man’s face. At least he wasn’t the only one feeling bad. Even if it didn’t change anything that happened, Tony was petty enough to find small happiness in such things.

Steve chose his words carefully.  “We were desperate and didn’t think clearly. So we went to Wakanda and T’Challa…well, he offered us a way out.”

“Sounds ominous.”

“It wasn’t. The prince has a good heart and he offered this solution with his best intentions. If things went right it should have worked out fine.”

Tony leaned back in his seat, crossing his arm. “Because with us, things _always_ go right.”

Steve chose to ignore his comment and continued. “It was something I didn’t really like, but Bucky strongly agreed with, so we said okay. And after a few days of preparation they put Bucky in a tank and froze him.”

“What is it with you and ice?” Tony asked before he could stop putting his foot in his mouth. 

“Tony,” Natasha warned as Steve expression hardened.

He looked at Nat, raising his hands in surrender. “What? It’s a genuine question.” He turned to Steve. “I thought being a Capsicle and all, you would be hundred percent against that.”

Steve took his time to answer. “It wasn’t my first choice,” he said, his voice rougher now, a sign that he was losing his patience. “But it had to be done. It was that or waiting to get caught and…” Steve turned to look at the kid again, his expression softening. “Bucky was afraid. He couldn’t trust himself anymore, not when a few Russian words could still make him go crazy. So he decided. And I agreed.”

“Okay,” Tony said, trying to collect his thoughts. “So you went to Wakanda, decided to freeze Barnes, then I suppose shit went wrong.”

Steve nodded affirmative. “Yes.”

“So… what then?”

Just how tense Steve was, quickly became apparent when the man suddenly stood up and started to walk around the room. It exhausted Tony to follow him with his eyes to watch him walk in small circles, as the room was a tight fit, so Tony kept staring at the table and sometimes watched Natasha. She looked like someone who had heard the story already.

“We froze him,” Steve said, finally stopping by another desk before leaning back on it. “Everything seemed fine,” he said shaking his head. “Then the screaming started. We tried to open the tank, but it had a thirty minutes long security lock on it. I tried to break the glass, but it was made to withstand huge forces.” He turned to Tony and gave him a tight smile. “And also Vibranium.”

“Steve broke both of his hands,” Natasha added.

Steve shrugged. “They healed,” he said. “After the thirty minutes ended, we opened up the tank and there was him. Looking a little younger, than the brat I befriended in 1925.”

He had a faraway look in his eyes for a moment, then the hard expression reappeared.

Tony tried to find a reasonable explanation, but thanks to his headache it was hard to think. “Why would T’Challa do this?”

“It wasn’t him,” Steve said without a beat. “Or at least I don’t think so,” he added a second later. “He seemed just as distraught as me.”

“So someone tinkered with it,” Natasha said.

Steve nodded. “That’s the only explanation.”

Tony pushed off the table, he was lounging against with a roll of his eyes. “How is it more possible that someone went to Wakanda, got through security, did something with the tank in like, a _day_ , “he rambled on, “than it is that T’Challa finally figured forgiveness wasn’t as fun as he thought and messed with it himself?”

This all didn’t make sense. Wakanda wasn’t exactly next doors so it had to be someone from the inside or someone who knew about their plan. He looked at Steve in question. “Did you tell anyone about it?”

“I…,” he faltered, not expecting the question. How could he have not thought about it was beyond Tony. He was too trusting for his own good. “That’s not it,” Steve said, with a shake of his head dismissing the thought. “They wouldn’t.”

“Who did you tell?” Tony asked again.

Natasha spoke up. “He told me.”

“And Sam,” Steve continued, thinking. “And Clint. Lang, Wanda.”

“That certainly doesn’t sound like a secret,” Tony informs him.

“I trust them.”

“Oh, come on,” Tony said to the man. “Do you really? How long have you known the ant guy, for like a month?”

“I trust them too,” Natasha interjected, “but if we have any other suspects I would rather not investigate them behind their backs. Trust is really feeble nowadays. So think, Steve. Did you tell anyone else?”

Steve seemed to hesitate. “I… might have mentioned it to Sharon, but she couldn’t be that,” he added quickly, before explaining. “She helped us throughout everything. She wouldn’t betray me.”

Tony once again rolled his eyes. Steve could be so naïve sometimes.

“You seem to underestimate SHIELD a great deal.”

Steve shoulders stiffened. “You don’t know anything about her.”

“No, I don’t,” Tony agreed, with a shrug. “But I’m also not blinded by the wish to get laid. Or is it because she’s a Carter?” He added quickly. “They wouldn’t do anything wrong, right?”

The table shook as Steve stood up, kicking the chair in front of it back. Tony was on his feet without a second thought, approaching.

“Guys!” Natasha hissed. “ _Stop_. You will wake him up again.”

Tony waved. “No, let him. Want to punch me again?” he asked, the distance between them rapidly closing. “Go ahead,” he said meeting Steve’s hard eyes. “If Barnes couldn’t finish the job, being the good friend you are, you must do it in his place, right?”

Natasha was between them almost immediately, one hand on Steve’s chest. “Even if Tony said it in a very crude way, he is _right_ ,” she said and Steve laughed. “We cannot cross out anyone right now. And maybe she’s innocent and all this is us being paranoid, but I would happily apologize after I’m sure she’s clean.”

Steve obviously disagreed with everything that was said, which made Tony even more irritated. He obviously wasn’t going to listen to Tony and he sure as hell not staying to wait for his dismissal.

“Okay, so this is all very secret agent-ish, but why am I here again? Because Happy is dying of boredom right now and I also would like to get back to work.”

“Work?” Steve scoffed, his face close to disgust. “You reek of alcohol, Stark.”

“Oh, have I been degraded to Stark now? I’m hurt, I really am.”

“Is everything a joke to you?”

He had enough.

_Enough._

“You know what’s a joke? That after every bullshit you put me through, and after Barnes is the last person I want to see doing good on this planet, I’m sitting here out of my goddamn good will to listen to your problems, that let me tell you, I don’t give two _shits_ about and you dare to act like you are doing me a favor. You know what?” he said, looking Steve in his eyes. “Screw you. And screw him,” he spat, waving in the general direction of the kid. “Hope he stays forever a midget. I’m leaving.”

He was halfway to the door, when Nat grabbed him again. She really needed to stop doing that.

“Tony, please wait.”

“No,” he said, his voice hard. He was leaving now.

The hand fell from his arm, but the voice followed him. “If you won’t listen to him, at least listen to me. For me?” Tony stopped, not turning around. “Please?”

Tony counted to ten in his head.

“You have one minute.”

Natasha wasted no time. “We need Howard’s files on project reborn.”

“I don’t have them.”

“They must be stored somewhere,” she pushed.

“I don’t know where they are,” he said and he didn’t even need to lie. It was the truth. “He never let me in his office,” he added in and undertone.

“I’m sure you could find it,” she said in a softer voice. Pleading. “Being a genius and all.”

Tony sighed, turning around to meet her eyes. “Maybe, and that’s a very hypothetical maybe, I can find it. But why do you need it?” He asked, truly not understanding. “It’s all gibberish about a hundred years old technology.”

“And maybe, hypothetically maybe, we can find a way to reverse this.”

“That’s a lot of faith in a piece of paper, that may not even exist.”

“My faith is not in the paper,” she said with a faint smile. “It’s in you.”

Tony mimicked vomiting. “That was disgustingly cheesy,” he said, but her words felt good. Not that he would ever admit that.

“So, will you do it?”

“The things I do for scary redheads...,” Tony muttered.

“Thank you,” she said and her words were honest. It was a nice moment. Even if it was only that long.

A knock at the door drew their attention. Steve stiffened and immediately went for the kid and Natasha kicked the already half opened door shut.

There were surprised yelps behind the door, - more than one people outside, Tony noted, - and Natasha cursed. It wasn’t doing much to calm Tony down. He looked around helplessly, wishing he had his suit and didn’t come with a fucking car, because maybe then his hands wouldn’t be shaking now and he would be able to stop the pounding heart speeding up in his chest, threatening to tear out.

Natasha must have noticed. She shouted something out the door, something about maintenance, but even though he heard the words, he couldn’t understand them, the pounding in his ears were too loud. He needed to get out of here. He was looking at the window, contemplating, because if he had his suit it would be no problem, but without that jumping from the third floor would break his spine. Cap was right. Without his suit he was nothing.

Soft hands touched Tony’s face. “Calm down,” Natasha whispered, gently turning his head from the window so Tony would meet her eyes. “It’s just the staff.” Her eyes showed the kind of gentle concern Pepper used to have. She laid her hand lightly on his shoulder, and instead of flinching like he usually did, he was soothed by it. She left her hand there and spoke with such a soft voice, that Tony felt her words calming him more by the way they were said than the actual words.

“I’m fine,” he said, embarrassment flowing through him. No surprise no one could bear to be around him anymore. He was a mess.

“It’s okay,” Nat said as if she could read his mind and Tony couldn’t do anything, but nod and listen to the now awake kid mumble something into Steve’s neck, glancing at Tony from time to time. He clung to Steve’s front, as if the floor was lava, his one arm tightly around his neck, legs around his middle. He wasn’t big enough, to cross his legs around all that muscle, but Steve’s hand was holding the boy firmly against him.

“We need to go,” Steve said, his voice final. He walked up to the window Tony was staring at and looked out, careful to hold the kid out of sight.

“I want to look,” the boy said, tugging at the shoulder, blocking him from the view.

With a definite move Steve pulled the shutters down. “Let’s go.”

“For once I find it I agree with him,” Tony commented, finding it hard to look away from the kid who was staring at him once again. His eyes were intense, but unlike the rest of him they weren’t at all expressive, just cold. It was unnerving that he didn’t know what was going through the boy’s mind. Kids were supposed to be easy to read.

Steve walked past him with his human backpack and stood by the door, looking at Natasha expectantly. She took out her phone and looked at it. “There’s two men in the end of the hallway. Left.”

“I’m not a midget.”

The boy’s voice was barely above mumble, but Tony was too much on edge to not hear it.

“Sounds like something a midget would say,” he said back, automatically, wondering if the kid caught the rest of the conversation as well. It didn’t matter. This wasn’t a child. This was the person, who murdered his family, small size or not.

“I’m not!” the boy pushed and Tony’s expression hardened.

“Enough,” Steve said in a firm voice, letting out a controlled breath. The boy’s expression fell as he cast his gaze onto the ground, but Tony was more interested in watching Steve. To his surprise, Steve face turned into a similar scowl, when Tony annoyed him and in that moment something clicked in his brain. Steve didn’t want this. Looking at him again, he noticed the dead tired man, not having five minutes to shave or shower, desperate enough to come and seek out Tony, even if he knew the chances of him helping was very low.

He used to like humoring people. He wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Okay, it’s clear now,” Natasha said, moving to the door. “I’ll go first.”

As the door opened Tony squinted at the sudden light. With a flick of his fingers, his shades were on his nose again, then following Natasha he walked out the room.

The hallway was empty, just as Nat said. It was probably lucky for them that it was a Sunday, when most of the staff was home, except for the few nurses who needed to watch the stay-in patients, like Rhodey. He should have visited him today, he knew he should have, but so many things happened already that he really wanted to go home.

Closing the door behind them, Natasha turned to Steve, who was still holding the kid close to his chest. “Use the stairs. Tony and I came through the front entrance, so we need to leave that way. Meet you at Tony’s car.”

Tony stopped in his tracks to argue, but Steve was already racing down the stairs. He looked at Nat feeling affronted, but he was tired as hell. He couldn’t muster up anything, but a scowl and his eyeglasses even hid that. But Natasha read people from less.

“I’m sorry this is all so sudden. You will say the final word, but they don’t have anywhere to stay and the Avengers Tower is probably the safest place.”

Tony took a deep breath and started walking towards the elevator shaft, Natasha hot on the heels of him. With stiff finger he pressed the call button, then raising the same finger he turned to Natasha.

“One,” he said, holding his pointing finger up, “I told everyone that, but they kept whining it was a prison, so _thank you_ , and two,” he added, raising another finger, “if you think I’m going to let Barnes stay in –“

“Discuss,” Natasha corrected quickly and Tony pulled a face and her. “We are only going to talk there,” she said again as the elevator grinded to halt, the doors slowly opening. They both shut up when they noticed the other person in there.

The young man seemed to realize the abrupt change of air, so he smiled sheepishly at them and moved back to give them some space.

“Which floor?” he asked.

“Ground,” Tony said and pushed the button before finding a spot on the wall to stare at.

When they finally arrived Tony was the first to step out, saying an awkward bye to the man they’d spent three minutes in complete silence with. Natasha came next, with a roll of her eyes.

“He was ogling my ass the whole time,” she muttered, walking past Tony to leave the place. “At least at your place, we won’t have nurses barging in on us.”

Tony was quick to catch up. “But I like nurses.”

Natasha gave him a look, raising perfectly one eyebrow. “Not when they might call the police on you.”

So that was the plan now, Tony though as he noticed Steve through the glass windows, standing next to his black Volvo. He was going to let the wolves into his own home.

“I don’t even know why you even wanted me here,” he said feeling more tired than anything. “It’s not like a I get to have a say in anything.”

“You do,” Natasha insisted. “But I’m pushy, I know, but I do want the best for you two.”

Tony slowed down, his mind deciphering the words. “Not Bucky?”

“You two are more important,” she said, then whispered. “Don’t tell Steve that.”

Tony shook his head, before pushing at the glass doors at the end, finally escaping the damn hospital. Happy didn’t park that far, so he stopped in his tracks, turning to face Natasha. “I don’t think I’ll be telling Steve anything.”

“I would be surprised if you didn’t argue the moment you enter the car,” she said, closing the door behind them.

“True.”

Before they walking again, Natasha suddenly spoke.

“Thank you.”

“It’s what I’m for after all,” he said, shrugging. “Providing over the top, luxurious living space since… I don’t even know. Feels like forever.”

A wry smile appeared on Natasha’s face. “You are not _that_ old.”

“Oh, I am, believe me,” Tony said, fishing out his car keys, because Happy obviously locked himself in when Steve arrived. “When you are relieved that you don’t have to take the stairs, you are old. Also lazy,” he added. “But I’m both.”

“Good thing then, that you came by car,” she said as they reached the Volvo.

Not a big enough car obviously, he thought just as Steve was about to open his mouth.

 “Okay, here’s a few rules,” Tony said, quickly raising his hand to signal him to shut up. “I don’t want my car hijacked,” he said, opening the back door with his key, “so hands where I can see them. Hello, Happy.”

The man in the driver’s seat looked at him very confused. “B-Boss.”

He turned back to Steve, who was anxious to get in the car. “Fine,” Steve said, trying to move past Tony to put the kid in.

 “And no arguing,” Tony added, stepping away, watching Steve slip in after the boy with a scowl. At least some things were back to normal. “No are-we-there-yet bullshit,” he continued, knowing that Cap could still hear him. “And keep the chat to minimum. We will talk in the tower, until then I want some time to think.”

Steve nodded.

“After you,” Tony said to Natasha, before closing the door behind them. It was a tight fit for them, but at least they got a damn ride.

Tony sighed and walked up to open the door to passenger's seat and with another sigh slumped down the real leather with a thud.

Happy looked at him unsure and Tony closed his eyes.

“Don’t even ask. Drive us home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the madness begin.
> 
> Thank you all for the encouraging words and feedback. It's always lovely to hear your thoughts!


	3. Chapter 3

The car ride was long and quiet. Steve kept his word and both him and the kid remained silent, enough so, that Tony might have fallen asleep if he wasn’t so tense. Happy kept looking at him the whole time and Tony wondered if he was trying to be sneaky about it, because if so he was doing a poor job at it. He couldn’t blame him though. After all he brought the armor in case one of the backseat passengers showed up, and there they were, sitting cozily behind them.

He tried to sleep, he really did. It would have been great to mentally restart by the time they got back, but for the same reason Happy was tense, there was no way he could rest. He kept glancing behind him until Steve once caught him, after that he never turned back again, even when he felt a pair of eyes burning into the back of his head. No need to say, that when they finally arrived, Tony was the first to jump out of the suffocating car.

Parking in the garage would have been obvious choice even if they weren’t transporting wanted criminals. Ever since this whole mess happened he didn’t enjoy showing his face to the press and they gathered like hyenas around the building. Steve was obviously bothered when they rolled up next to them, but the windows were shaded, so they couldn’t possible see anything. Still, Steve slumped in his seat, pulling the kid so close to him that he huffed and whined at him to let go. He didn’t.

“Come on,” Steve said when the car stopped, picking up the boy without a problem, even though he was struggling to break free. His muscles didn’t even strain. The kid picked the wrong fight.

Tony walked up to Happy as Natasha climbed out the car, dusting off her jeans, - as if the car wasn’t clean, - before walking up to Steve to chat. They seemed busy enough for Tony to sneak off for a few minutes, but he still turned to Happy.

“Watch them,” he said quietly, before obnoxiously clearing his throat, waving the phone in his hand, he just pulled out. “Be right back,” he announced as the heads turned towards him. “I have to take this call.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded after a moment, not that Tony waited for or needed his permission. He could do whatever he wanted in his own fucking house, tower or whatever. His place, his rules.

He knew the garage well enough to remember how far the sound travelled. There was a blind, - or so to speak _deaf_ , - spot that was surrounded by three concrete walls. It was basically an alcove that ended up empty a few years back when he was trying out his first suit. It used to have a flamboyant green couch that fit right into the spot. It wasn’t even that expensive compared to what Tony usually bought, but Pepper hated it so much he had to buy it. She liked to say that the best use for his suit had been causing the damn thing to finally catch on fire.

No couch or Pepper now. But he had a spot to talk freely.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y,” he said quietly, knowing the AI would hear him regardless of the volume he spoke on. Proving him right, a smooth reply came immediately from his earpiece.

“What can I do for you, Sir?”

Tony peeked out to see if anyone decided to follow him, but they were still all around the car, the kid now looking around fascinated in the garage. His eyes landed on Steve and for once he didn’t look back.

“No one’s allowed to leave the building without my permission,” he said watching the man’s face soften at something Natasha said. Tony looked away. “My floor’s also off limit. So is my workshop.”

“Understood, sir. Does this new rule involve Miss Romanov as well?”

Tony fell silent. He knew he shouldn’t say yes. After all she proved herself loyal and kept checking on Tony when no one else did, but even so… Inviting Steve to his home felt like a betrayal and trust wasn’t his forte anymore. Maybe it never would be.

He answered without thinking much on it, ignoring the lump of guilt forming in his chest. “Yes. No exceptions.”

There was a small silence before the AI answered and it felt so familiar to how J.A.R.V.I.S. used to judge him without words, that he took out the earpiece immediately and hid it in his pocket. He counted in his head, paying close attention to his breathing, before shoving away from the wall and he walked back to the others as if nothing happened, placing a small cold smile on his lips.

If he perfected one thing in life it was false pretenses.

Steve on the other hand was the heart on the sleeve kind of guy, - or at least used to, he was getting better at hiding what he was thinking, - but the suspicious look was easily recognizable. Tony’s tight smile widened.

The kid hugged Steve’s neck, like a little monkey, looking around in awe as if he was in freaking Disneyland not just Tony's garage. Sure he had some shiny cars, but sport cars weren't that unusual in New York. Barnes surely had already seen his fair share of them.

“These are so cool!” the kid said, grinning. “Which one is yours?” he asked turning to Tony.

“All of them are mine.” He said simply, enjoying the astonishment on the boy’s face, but only for a second. He remembered he didn’t care.

“Busy life?” Steve asked, nodding at the phone in Tony’s hand. Did he think he was being subtle? He might as well have just asked him who was the caller and what did they talk about.

“Very,” he answered then clapped his hands together. “So here’s the thing. You guys can stay in the lounge, until I find you some kind of accommodation, then you guys leave. Plain and simple. All of you,” he added turning to Natasha. Her face was unmoving, but that didn’t mean anything with her. “Even if I gave you rules I know I can’t trust you to follow them, so don’t get too comfortable. You can take a shower, but there’s surveillance in there and I won’t turn it off. Considering past events, I think we are past privacy.”

Natasha opened her mouth, but surprising everyone Steve cut her off. “Fine,” he said, adjusting his hold on the wiggling kid in his arms, trying to break free. “It’s not like it was much different in the army.”

“Wonderful,” Tony quipped, clapping his hands together once again. “Glad we agree on that. Let’s go up, shall we?”

He waved goodbye to Happy, who looked incredibly uncomfortable during the whole ordeal, but it wasn’t like Tony didn’t pay him enough to suffer with him. But even with the high salary he was grateful for his company. Seeing everyone disappear from his life had been hard. And it was a plausible possibility that with only F.R.I.D.A.Y. around he would go crazy.

He ushered everyone into an elevator, then came up with an excuse and went up with the next one, _alone_. Part of him wanted to watch Steve’s every move, because he still didn’t know what the hell was going on and in no way trusted him to not fuck up everything, but right now he just wanted to hide and get as far away from him as possible. Maybe he was avoiding the inevitable, but being a coward suited him just fine.

He was grateful for the few minutes of silence, but it probably wasn’t even that long. It definitely felt longer. It was enough for him to compose himself. Somewhat. He shouldn’t have looked at his reflection. Too late. He looked like crap. Hell, he looked worse than Steve. The hoodie he wore, no matter the brand, was an old one, slightly too big for him and it had a stain on the right sleeve, most likely from last week’s takeout. How much time passed since his clothes saw a washing machine? J.A.R.V.I.S. used to take care of this. Maybe he even had a maid. There was certainly no one cleaning the house right now. And the thought of washing his own clothing was so depressing, that he just bought new ones. He still had money at least.

“What the hell happened to this place?” Steve asked as soon as Tony stepped out the elevator. The kid was no longer in his arms, but on the kitchen counter instead. Steve must have made space to place him there, because it was covered with empty takeout boxes when he left and now he was able to see the counter.

_I happened_ , Tony thought, but he didn’t want to look more pathetic than he already was by admitting that. “Does it matter?” he said instead, beelining to the coffee machine to pour himself a cup of the morning brew. As he took a sip he met Steve’s gaze. “You don’t live here anymore.”

Steve kept his stare before looking away. “It’s just sad to see this place turn into this.” He picked up another takeout box and threw it in the trash. It barely fit in with everything else piled up in it. “Used to be more than this.”

Tony’s hand tightened around the cup, but he said nothing. What could he say? It was all true. It wasn’t a fucking great feeling to see this place fall apart around him, but so did everything else. This was more like the last piece of a domino. No one came over anyway and the booty calls didn’t count. They didn’t give a crap about the mess, as long as Tony paid for everything, which he did. He was good for that.

Natasha walked up to him, but he didn’t turn. He was content sipping the cold, shitty coffee, that was close to gone by now and watching the kid trying to scoop up the remains of his favorite chicken noodles.

Steve was too busy looking around to notice it and Tony sure as hell won’t tell. It was one of the newer boxes anyway. And it wasn’t poisonous. Seventy percent sure.

“I didn’t know it was this bad,” Natasha said, grabbing a mug for herself.

“I wouldn’t drink that if I were you,” he said, before pouring himself another cup. Nat raised one eyebrow. He wished he could do that.

“Pretty sure I drank worse.”

Tony shrugged and took a sip. “Be my guest.”

To her credit, she didn’t flinch or make a face. They drank in silence for a few moments, the only sound in the room Steve footsteps and the kid munching on the noodles.

“The kid is eating that crap,” she noted quietly and Tony nodded. The kid heard her however.

“It’s tasty,” he argued, licking off his fingers. Tony shrugged again.

“Go nuts.”

He looked at Steve who was now in the far end of the room, looking at some old pictures on the shelf that miraculously didn’t break in the last few weeks. She glanced back at Tony.

“It probably won’t kill him,” she said. Tony wouldn’t care if it did.

Natasha stared at him, before drinking the coffee in one go.

“It’s not vodka you know.”

“Are you angry at me?”

“Why would I?” Tony asked bitterly, despite all of his best efforts to appear unaffected by her words.

“You want me to leave,” she states as if she’s explaining something obvious to him, but her voice is somewhat softer than before.

“Maybe I just want to be alone.” It’s said halfheartedly, but it’s the most Tony could offer without getting into another argument. He was getting tired of them.

“I know this is a lot to take in,” Natasha spoke again, clamping her hand down around Tony’s shoulder in a reassuring manner, before letting him go, “but if I wasn’t absolutely sure, that this meant no harm for you, I wouldn’t have asked you to take them in.”

Tony couldn’t believe her.

“ _Absolutely sure_ ,” he mimicked mockingly, pulling Natasha away, so the kid wouldn’t hear. “So you are saying, that if I decided to say those magical Russian words the kid won’t turn into a monster?” he asked, lowering his voice. “Maybe he is busy sucking those noodles now, but are you _absolutely sure,_ that he won’t just grab one of the kitchen knives and stab the closest person?”

Natasha’s silence was an answer enough.

“Thought so,” he said. “You invite the person who murdered my family into my home-“

“You agreed,” she interrupted quickly. “Maybe I initiated the whole thing, but you had the final words, you’ve always had the power the say no.”

“As if I could say no!” Tony snapped, slamming his cup down the counter, making both the kid and Steve look at him. His next words were whispered, but none the less spiteful. “I say no and with that I cut of the only person who still cares enough to check up on me. Great fucking plan.”

He turned away from Natasha, not wanting to hear the excuse that would come out of her mouth. It’s a quick move, but it was cut short, just as fast by a small hand grabbing onto the sleeve of his hoodie.

Tony’s whole body froze. The kid on the counter looked at him with a worried expression and Tony wanted to laugh. It would be and ugly laugh, one that could easily turn hysterical. The small fingers still digging into his sleeve when the boy spoke.

“Don’t be sad.”

Tony was a man of many words, but now, he just stared. He stared at his arm, held captive by the kid’s grasp and wondered why he hadn’t already pulled away. The kid couldn’t have weighed a lot and it would take no strength from him to overpower him. Yet, he remained still, slowly meeting the kid’s face.

He looked somewhere between worried and frustrated, an expression that usually sat on Cap’s face whenever they had a misunderstanding, which was basically their whole relationship, but still. Seeing it on the kid was something different. It just made everything feel more real and Tony didn’t like that. He didn’t want to see emotions in those cold blue eyes. It was easier to remember who he really was without them.

“Sad?” he laughed, because screaming would be much worse. “Who’s sad? Not me, that’s for sure. Maybe Cap,” he said, glancing at the blond man, who was busy walking up to them, the photo he was looking at, forgotten in his hand.

“Bucky, let him go,” he said in a hard voice. He was moments away, from pulling the boy’s hand himself.

“Or maybe it’s just his face,” Tony continued as Steve’s frown deepened, but the kid didn’t let go, if anything he looked even more determined.

“No,” he said tugging Tony towards him and failing. _As if_ he could move him. He looked directly at Tony then looked around, thinking. “We can play something,” he offered.

Tony actually laughed then and it wasn’t even acting. This was ridiculous. “Thanks, but no thanks. I would appreciate getting my arm back though. Like, now.”

It would have been fucking great if the kid let him go. Even him wasn’t such an asshole to pull his arm away and risk the kid falling to kiss the tiles, especially that it would result in a pretty heavy disagreement from Steve. He did like his head on his neck, thank you. No need for relocation until further notice.

Thankfully the kid let go, partly from Steve looming over him like freaking Hercules ready to intervene. Good to know that the kid developed survival instincts.

As he slipped away from the kid, his eyes met Steve’s. It started as a brief glance, but as the second passed it became more of a stare, that neither of them looked away from. It wasn’t exactly a contest, but Tony had a feeling if he looked away he would lose something. Like the change of expression on Steve’s face. He almost looked sorry. Tony must be more tired than he thought if he started imagining these things.

Steve looked tired too. Not that he cared, but it wasn’t a big secret that they both could use some sleep. Tony didn’t look that different, maybe the bags under his eyes were deeper than usual, but no one was around him enough to notice the subtle changes. Cap however always had been a pristine scout boy in grandpa clothes, - thanks to some outside help he got a better fashion sense over the years, - so the beard definitely looked weird on his face. He wasn’t a beard hater _obviously,_ but this was just another reminder, that Steve had changed so much.

He wasn’t sure he knew him anymore.

Tony looked away first. This was how things were now. Nothing good would come from nostalgia and he had some work ahead of him. Crashing down on the bed and getting a few blinks of sleep was appealing, but no rest for the wicked, he guessed and until there was coffee available he was going to survive.

Steve grabbed a tissue from _wherever,_ Tony was sure it wasn’t his, and started cleaning up the kid’s face, still smudged from the Chinese food. The kid whined quietly, but after Natasha joined them and said something, - it was too low for him to her, - the kid shut up for the rest of the cleaning.

When she shared a small smile with Cap Tony decided it was time to visit his workshop. The sooner they left his house the better, but that meant he needed to start looking for shelter right now.

“Okay, the only adult here needs to get some work done, so stay put,” he said, loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “And remember: Sauron’s eye is always watching.” Noticing Steve’s confused look, he rolled his eyes. “God. I’ll try to find another rock for you to live under.”

He fastened his steps after he realized Natasha was trying to catch up to him, but he didn’t actually expect the elevator’s automatic door to beat her. Maybe he was getting better at running away from problems. Or she just wasn’t trying hard enough.

“Activate the kitchen’s voice channel and mute me, obviously,” he told F.R.I.D.A.Y. as he arrived to the workshop. Maybe he was being intrusive, but so what. This was his house and he also warned them.

***

After four hours he turned the channel off. In the last twenty minutes only faint static buzzed in his earpiece and even before that the eavesdropping was anticlimactic. He didn’t expect them to badmouth him, after all Natasha must have known that the whole place was bugged and he would be an avid listener, but he expected more than mere chit-chat. They talked about him, sure, and actually it was Steve who brought him up. Asking if he was fine or whatnot. If he had an _alcohol problem._ Tony had to laugh at that. Fucking Steve being pretentious as ever. It’s easy to preach, when you couldn’t get drunk. Natasha thankfully was vague and told him that it was none of his business and if he wanted to know about him he should ask Tony directly. That wrapped the topic up, because that was never going to happen and Steve knew that as well.

They talked about the kid though. A _lot._ They didn’t mention his name, instead they played the pronoun game, something that Tony quickly grew tired of. It was pointless and made it obvious that neither Cap nor Nat dealt with children before. Not that Tony was an expert by any ways, but when Tony was five he knew when he was the topic, no matter how well they dressed it up with fancy words. Bucky did the same thing he did back then; remained silent the whole time and pretended to be oblivious.

Since then Natasha started reading a book, - the title too blurry, but mostly too Russian for Tony to decipher it through the security camera, - and Steve promptly fell asleep on the couch. He watched him longer than he would have admitted, but sleeping people were too fascinating to look away. It was easy to forget that someone changed, when they slept in the same way they always did. It was a hard habit to shake off.

He slept like a child would sleep in the back of the car. Head slumped back with his mouth slightly open, arms crossed against his chest. Even when the couch was long enough for him to lay down he fell asleep sitting. Always the martyr.

The kid was… animated. He seemed confident before, even with the change of environment and he spoke to Tony so carelessly despite just meeting him the first time. Every kid was different he guessed. He was constantly blabbering to Natasha about nothing and everything, horribly mundane things, like how big the building was outside the window or how many red cars he could count or when he got bored with the outside world, how she should watch him do a somersault. Tony managed to tune out most of it, but then the kid asked who the mister was with the cool cars and he could no longer concentrate.

“He’s just Tony,” she said and the kid tried the name on his lips a few times. Tony turned the voice channel off and let the video feed run on mute.

In the end Natasha found some papers with a bunch of ballpoint pens and Bucky had been drawing ever since. He didn’t know how many minutes or hours passed since then. Maybe even years. God, he needed a coffee.

He heard his joints pop as he stretched. That was never a good sign. It felt like he hadn’t moved in ages. He glanced at the clock as he slumped down on his rugged couch. The leather was coming off in small pieces, but it was comfortable as hell. He most likely wouldn’t move in the next fifteen minutes or so.

Dum-E whirred softly towards him, knocking into his right knee, but he didn’t mind. His claw held a mug that had never seen a sink in its ceramic life, one that Tony took gladly in his hands.

“Thanks buddy,” he murmured, sniffing the mysterious content. Surprisingly it smelt like actual coffee, but more importantly it didn’t remind him of gear oil, so he took a cautious sip. It wasn’t too bad.

Despite the whole search marathon, he felt like he was running in circles. He chose a place based on many criteria, then scratched the idea for another bunch of reasons. Sending Steve and the kid off to a literal shed would have been amusing, also very cliché, but despite the advantages of a desolate location, securing a stack of rotting wood and wiring it up to the internet was something Tony would have no patience to do. Then again if he decided on a luxurious celebrity hideout one way or another, thanks to a relentless paparazzi, Steve would have ended up in the press. So that was a no too.

He had to remember that Steve wasn’t the most lawful citizen anymore and people were looking for him. Lucky for Tony, Steve was Captain fucking America, the face of the freaking USA and therefor someone that everyone recognized. Great.

So no top notch place and no withering shed in the middle of nowhere. That left him with one option: boring average flat in an average neighborhood. He thought about choosing a shady area, like Brownsville, but average security was better.

In no way did he fear for Cap, - the petty criminals really stood no chance, - but a guy single handedly beating up a whole gang would have received attention.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., thoughts?” He asked, fighting back a yawn. He had to stay awake. After dealing with the flat business he could get some actual work done. Maybe even figure out what the stuff was on Cap’s shield. Where the hell was his shield, anyway? It wasn’t with him, obviously, but wasn’t that a bit too risky? Yeah, the shield was a huge giveaway and not exactly stealth material, but still, the lack of shield was unnerving. What if it was with the person who decided to tweak it to be even more lethal?

F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s smooth voice ended that train of thought.

“I think the one bedroom apartment at the 38th Street would be the best choice. It is possible to pay up front and the neighboring flat is currently empty.”

“Isn’t that a bit too close?”

“In case of an emergency that might prove to be useful. Also, crossing a longer distance would discourage both sides from visiting.”

“Like hell I’m going to visit,” he said more tired than bitter. They were going to move and that was the end of the story. Steve wasn’t going to visit, why should he? It was better this way.

“But fine,” he added, noticing that his drink had been long gone. “Contact the landlord. Natasha can snoop around tomorrow.” He looked at the clock. He really lost the sense of time. “Or today, I guess. Okay, here we go,” he said, enjoying his last stretch. He rubbed his eyes as he walked up to the computer screen. “Give me everything on Project Rebirth.”

***

Tony’s eyes snapped open in alarm. His face was lying on his desk, his right cheek already sore, probably red. Throwing away the paper stuck to his face, he massaged the painful area. F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice was a continuous lull in the background, but that wasn’t what woke him, - not that he remembered falling asleep. It was the alarm.

It wasn’t a loud booming noise that filled every room in the tower, alerting everyone that something was wrong. It was a sound meant only for his ears. It couldn’t have been more than a few beeps, but he was already awake. Yeah, he was a light sleeper, but his quick reflexes were mostly thanks to paranoia.

After blinking a few times his mind started to register the A.I.’s words as something coherent.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your sleeping, sir, but Miss Romanov wishes to speak with you. She tried to take the elevator to the workshop, but entry for her is forbidden, as requested. She is very stubborn.”

Tony groaned silently in defeat. It would have been easy, not to move an inch and let Natasha come down to the workshop, but even in his drowsy state he knew his decision about permissions was the right one. He couldn’t function without his private space, not when everything was falling apart around him. The workshop was a sanctuary, something that was always the same, chaotic, but it was his chaos. He thought the tower was his too, but then yesterday happened. He needed to be strict about this.

“Okay, I’m coming up,” he mumbled through his fingers. “How long was I out?” He still felt like someone knocked him in the head. F.R.I.D.A.Y. sounded apologetic as she answered.

“42 minutes, sir. I suggest going to bed, after dealing with Miss Romanov, as it is only eight in the morning.”

“Sleep is for the weak,” he said and stood up, knowing another restless night awaited him. He didn’t find anything useful yesterday. The whole Project Rebirth was very hush-hush, filled with the typical patriotic crap. “Life, Death and Captain America,” or “The Secret of Steve Rogers That No One is Talking About,” – that being the _scandalous_ fact, that Steve didn’t like cheese or “The Insider Secret on Captain America Uncovered,” which from start to finish was complete bullshit. The files were mostly these. Newspaper pieces, interviews with Steve, historic documents and tabloid filth. Basically nothing he didn’t already know.

It was strange to run across some stories that he was once forced to listen to. His dad loved to talk about Steve, it didn’t matter if Tony wanted to talk about something else in the five minutes he finally got to spend with his dad. He was only important when he got his grades and that resulted in an opportunity to show him off to his father’s acquaintances.

He hated Captain America back then. It was a long time ago.

S.H.I.E.L.D. did a good job at hiding all the juicy stuff. All the numbers, calculations, chemicals, people who were involved, nothing. It was as if Steve just appeared in a puff of smoke, ready to save the day.

It seemed going home was unavoidable. It was definitely Plan “Z” in his mind. He would rather spend researching the next month, going through all this garbage to find something useful, than step through that threshold ever again. When Jarvis died the house died with him. He had no wish to go back.

He walked into the longue deep in thought, missing the old Jarvis and the new one, wondering why he was so lucky to lose them both. He wanted another one, needed another one, he was selfish and couldn’t function without a Jarvis and F.R.I.D.A.Y. wasn’t a good substitute. It wasn’t the same.

Maybe he should have noticed the kid in the room. If he raised his head perhaps. Hearing the kid call his name so fucking happily was definitely a surprise. He almost tripped over his own legs.

“Tony!” he said, his face lighting up at his arrival as he looked up from the piece of paper he was working on. He was surrounded by pens, all chaotically laid out on the coffee table, which was just the right height for Bucky to reach sitting on the ground. He quickly loomed over the paper again, drawing the last few lines and before Tony could even start moving again or at least cope with the fact, that the kid was in the room with him, Bucky was already running up to him, the paper waving in his hand.

“Here,” he said, his voice proud. “I drew this for you.”

Not giving Tony a choice he pushed the paper in his hand.

“I don’t like being handed things,” he said automatically, hating the way he wanted to jump away from the close proximity. He avoided personal involvement whenever possible, but he used to be better at it.

He did the only thing he could and looked at the drawing.

“Do you like it?” The kid asked, getting antsy. “It’s your cars.”

The drawing did resembled cars somewhat, but the kid was far from a prodigy. Also, ballpoint pens were hard to draw with. There was a lot of lines caused by the kid’s hand smudging the ink and few of the cars were incomplete. Why was he even looking at this? He didn’t care about this crap. Why he even received the kid’s attention was beyond him.

“Where is everyone?” he asked instead.

The kid shrugged, his hair falling into his eyes. “Dunno. Steve went to shower. Natasha is somewhere. Do you like it?”

“Uh,” he mumbled, feeling lost, looking up from the drawing. “Maybe you should give this to Steve. He’s more… artsy.”

“No,” the kid said, his mouth turning down. “It’s your cars. And your drawing. No take backs.”

“Okay.”

Tony scratched his chest, looking around uneasily. The kid caught him off guard. He hoped accepting the drawing would cause the kid to be content enough to get of his back, but it didn’t feel any less like a betrayal to his parents.

The numb tightness in his stomach rose up, making breathing a difficult task. He was hyperventilating, fucking _again_ , in a span of two days. Ignoring the kid who looked at him strangely he let the drawing fall from his hands and stammered into the kitchen. Concentrating on his breathing, - which was going haywire, - he searched the fridge for the closest bottle, which happened to be some left over alcohol and downed it in one go. Even as he drank, his throat felt tight, the air wasn’t reaching his lungs. For a moment he braced his hands on the counter top to fight down the urge to vomit everything right back up.

Bucky was standing on the same spot he left him when he looked up, just watching him. He must have picked the drawing up during his… _episode_ , as it was lying motionless in his small hand.

“Are you ill?”

Tony didn’t trust his voice, so he shook his head, but he knew he was going crazy. The kid didn’t need to know that.

“You should drink some hot water with lemon. Mom always makes me that when I’m sick. Do you have lemons?”

Tony stared at the kid, wondering if his hearing was okay, when the door opened. It was Natasha, her hair perfect, as if it was not eight in the morning. Maybe she slept in a certain position that didn’t mess up her curls. Tony felt like a slob next to her, his hair was a nest, yesterday’s clothes clung to his skin, - sweat was a great glue, so he probably smelled too. He was getting sloppy at keeping up appearances. He needed to pay more attention. And buy more clothes.

Her boots clicked on the hard wood as she approached them. Tony pretended to be busy by opening the fridge and looking through the contents, but he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. God, his fridge was a disaster. When was the last time anyone packed it up?

“Hey, boys,” she spoke, in that irritating tone of hers, that meant she knew exactly what was going on, but still pretended to be nonchalant. “Everything alright?”

Tony’s “yes” was perfectly synchronized with Bucky’s “no”, like in a bloody sitcom. He slammed the fridge close and glared at the kid, willing him with his eyes to shut up. He wasn’t fine, but it would have taken someone pulling his fingernails off with rusty pliers to let the kid make a deal out of this, or fuss over him.

“I think my opinion beats yours, since it’s about me and you know, _I’m me_.”

The kid looked at Natasha, determined. “He’s not fine!”

“Just piss off, will you?” He snapped, losing his patience. “You are not wanted here, don’t you get it? Can’t you read between the lines? Leave me the hell alone.”

It was the wrong thing to say, he knew that, even before the words left his mouth, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t choose his words for the sole purpose of hurting the kid. It worked great, but the feeling of the satisfaction never came.

Bucky stared at him and Tony had no idea what was going through his mind at that point, but it was very clear he was trying not to cry.

“Shut up!” he shouted and clumsily tried to crumple the drawing with one hand. In the end frustration won and with a sniff he threw the half destroyed paper at Tony and ran from the room.

Tony was absolutely sure someone hated him above, or he had kicked small fluffy small animals in his previous life and was paying for it now, because the wet soles slapping against the wooden floor only meant one thing.

Steve was in the room.

He had to look, he couldn’t help it. Maybe he was weak and masochistic, but Steve fresh out the shower was a sight he wouldn’t miss, even if it meant he couldn’t escape the room in time.

Many scars ran across Steve’s shoulders, some he remembered, but others were new. It was easy to see, because of course he was shirtless with a towel hanging around his neck. He had pants on, - thank God for small miracles, - but his feet was bare and to complete the look a toothbrush hang from his mouth. He was looking at the door Bucky made sure to slam, before his eyes zeroed on Tony.

He shaved, Tony realized.

Steve quickly took the toothbrush out and wiped his mouth in the towel, placing both on the closest surface, before getting close to them.

“I heard shouting,” he said, his eyes worried. He spent a few seconds looking over Tony before he turned to Natasha. “Did he do something?”

Tony snapped.

“Oh, of course it’s always fucking me, why would anyone else do anything wrong,” he said, pushing himself away from the counter, turning to Steve, face contorted in anger. “Hey, something went shit, typical Tony!”

Steve looked like he only didn’t snap back by an effort of will.

“I meant him,” he said. “Did he do something to you?”

Tony blinked.

“No, no, wait a second,” Tony said, holding up his hand, turning to Natasha. “Is this opposite day? Nat, did he really just said what I think he just said? Are you really on my side? I might cry, Cap.”

Worry gone from his expression, Steve face hardened.

“I’m not on anyone’s side, but since you can’t answer a simple question I don’t even know why I bother communicating with you. I’m gonna look for Bucky.”

Just as he started to walk away, Natasha intervened. “I will do that. You guys, stay here.”

“It’s a bother, because you’ve never tried it before,” Tony called after him and it worked. Steve was quick to turn back, his calm demeanor cracking.

“It feels like I’m the only one trying. I would really appreciate if that wasn’t the case but it feels like no matter what I say everything insults you. I can’t treat you like fine china, Tony, wondering when you will break.”

“Ever the poet, Cap.”

Steve huffed, throwing his hand up in irritation.

“See? This is what I mean. You keep complaining how we never talk and I try to listen to you once and you do this shit.”

“Your idea of conversation and mine is obviously very –“

“Give me the courtesy of being honest for once,” Steve cut him off, his voice serious. He was closer now, close enough, that Tony could smell the soap he used. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked. “To disappear completely out of your life? Because if that’s what you truly want, I’ll walk out that door right now. This whole thing was Natasha’s idea, believe me, I didn’t want to ask for your help. But not because I don’t think you are capable, but I know that you resent me and I need to respect that.”

Tony stared at him in silence and Steve face softened. He ran a hand through his wet hair and let out a sigh.

“I’m very tired, Tony. And I don’t want to argue anymore. Whatever you decide to do I’ll accommodate. But I want to hear it from you. Not from Natasha, not because you think you owe someone something, but because you want things to be that way.”

When Tony still didn’t answer he pressed.

“Do I need to pack my back?”

Screw him. Tony hated Steve now more than ever, because he had to be this way, had to pretend that he was the old Cap.

“You asshole,” he said and Steve’s expression fell, but he quickly composed himself again.

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t understand shit. You don’t need to pack,” he said quietly, before quickly continuing. “I mean you do, I found you a flat. But it’s near here,” he explained, like a desperate idiot. He was digging his own grave. “I would like you to move there, but… keep in touch. I’ll help you. But I need some space.”

Steve gave him a tired, genuine smile and Tony’s heart was breaking all over again.

“Of course. I know I don’t really show it… but I appreciate your help. And it’s good to see you. Even if you are an ass.”

“I was always an ass.”

“It’s part of your charm.”

Tony suddenly became very interested in his own socks.

“I should really go and speak with Bucky,” Steve said, after the silence became too much. “Is he going to be okay? For you I mean, to be around. We are kind of a package deal.”

Tony wasn’t sure about anything, but he still spoke. “We’ll work it out. But like I said, _space._ ”

Steve nodded, still standing in place, looking like he had a hard time deciding what to do.

“Do you still have the phone?” Steve suddenly asked. He sounded unsure.

“Thought about throwing it out, but yes, I still have it.” Tony admitted, feeling unsure himself. “Why?”

“Keep in touch.”

Tony watched Steve as he went after Bucky, looking back over his shoulder, before disappearing through the door. Tony stared at that point for a long time, thinking about what just happened.

His gaze eventually fell to the ground, to the crumpled piece of paper. He picked it up and smoothed it out the best he could. It tore in many places, but nothing a tape couldn’t fix.

Natasha was leaning at the door, watching him. She managed to sneak up on him again.

“Am I a bad person?”

His tone was light, but it was a serious question.

“No,” she said. “You can be a dick, but bad person? No.”

“I’m not sure sometimes,” he mused, but he was grateful for her words.

“Don’t shout at kids and you will be fine,” she said, walking close and patted his back. “But kids can cry literally at anything, so don’t worry too much about it. He will probably get over it.”

Tony nodded, but he wasn’t sure about that. He remembered a lot of things from when he was a child. But maybe he was different.

“You wanted to talk to me?” he asked, finally remembering the reason why he was up in the first place.

“We need to talk about a lot of things, because I know you are not fine, but I got a call from the hospital.”

“Is it about…?” He gestured towards where Steve disappeared. God, he wished that wasn’t the case. Hiding someone was one thing, but getting in the middle of a manhunt was the last thing he needed. Maybe someone recognized Steve. Tony wouldn’t attend police questionings, just like he never did, but he used to have Pepper to take care of that and she was no longer here, was she? Some part of him hoped that she would come back if he truly was in trouble. He knew that he was being naïve.

“No, no. Of course not,” she said and Tony let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I took care of that remember?” she said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Give me more credit. It’s about Rhodey. He woke up.”

And in that moment Tony thought, that maybe today wasn’t such a bad day after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get your tickets ready for the slow burn traiiiin.
> 
> Thanks for all the lovely feedback. Next up: "What's Going Through Captain America's Head? UNCOVERED"

**Author's Note:**

> So this angsty mess happened. Help.
> 
> Please feel free to point out grammar mistakes as English is not my native language. Cheers!


End file.
